


Burning Sage and Amber

by AkkiTheWolf



Series: Imagines (or too many k-pop in my brain) [16]
Category: Alpha and Omega - Patricia Briggs, GOT7, Mercy Thompson Series - Patricia Briggs
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Dark, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Fantasy, Folklore, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, Horror, I Tried, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Imprisonment, Jackson is a sweetheart, JacksonbeingJackson, Just wait for it, Legends, Magic, Mental Health Issues, Monsters, Multi, Mystery, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mythology - Freeform, Nightmares, Poisoning, PuppyWang, Slow Build, Suicidal Thoughts, There will be fluff, Torture, Violence, Werewolves, Witch!Jackson, Witches, Work In Progress, World War II references, please please read the warnings, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2019-07-15 05:10:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16056203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkkiTheWolf/pseuds/AkkiTheWolf
Summary: -“Why are you here?” she asked-Forget everything you know about your world. The stories you were told as a child.-“Why are you here?” His question startled her. -The nightmares you dreamed. the shadows you thought slipped by the corner of your eye.-“What do you think?” She laughed bitterly.-They. Are. All. Real.-“You are a wolf.”-Are you brave enough to stand up to your shadow?





	1. Prologue- Argent

**Author's Note:**

> This idea appeared to me when I saw the mv for You are, it just felt like magic and still does. So I decided to create a world where magic is real and Jackson is even more enchanting than usually.  
> The world and mythology is inspired by the Mercy Thompson stories universe (especially the werewolfs bits) by Patricia Briggs (that´s why I put it into the fandoms) that woman is a genius in my opinion. So I took the mythology, stories, legends, tweaked it and made it my own. Everything that is writen here is on purpose, even if it may not look like it. 
> 
> As it is I mean no offence to anyone and I make no money from this.
> 
> On another note, I am posting only the prologue because the work is not finished yet, I am barely in the half and I am already planning sequel. So posting will be done who-knows-when. If even someone reads this. Other characters will be appearing as the story proggresses, from different fandoms too.
> 
> This story is quite different from my other ones, so please heed the TAGS and WARNINGS!!! I will be updating them as the story continues.   
> Waaay too long of a preface, so Ima out and you enjoy (シ_ _)シ

          Growl. That was all she was capable of in this moment. The silver bars of her cage were blurry, slightly shimmering. They pumped her good this time. Blurry was also the young man standing outside her prison. At least she thought he was young. You could never know with the Others. She took him in, as much as her impaired vision let her. His clothes were clean from what her nose told her, but well worn. He wore all black, fitting pants and a hoodie as far as she could tell, the details still escaped her. But his boots told her the most. He clearly wished to appear simple and unassuming, blend in with the dark corners, the firm mid-calf high boots belonging more on a soldier gave away he knew at least somehow how to take care of himself. Or it was just a statement. Who can tell these days? But she suspected the former, given how she could not hear him getting so close, she tried to tell herself it was the silver´s fault. She didn´t really believe it. His hair was dark, what peeked out from the hood, probably more brown than black. She couldn´t see his eyes, just two dark pools partially hidden by his overgrown bangs and shadows falling on his face.

She could think of a thousand and one reasons why he was here; standing there for all purposes like a statue, gazing at her with blank expression and she didn´t like even one of them.

The Principal sometimes let guests “play” with her, if the price was right. She growled more fiercely, baring teeth and moving closer to the bars. Maybe if she scared him enough, he would leave. It would ensure her a beating and another dose later, but rather that, than letting another filthy hand touch her.

No change.

The young man stood there, only sign of him being alive was the rise and fall of his chest and the rhythmical clenching and unclenching of his fists.

“You know, I´m not scared of you.” He finally spoke, voice deep and a slight crunch of gravel in it. She scrunched her nose, the Otherspeak twanged on his tongue with foreign uncertainty. The language old, older than any and used only in establishments like these or by the Elders (the really really ancient, old and decrepit part of the hidden population), as if it would add any kind of polish to a filthy place like this. It didn´t suit him. The literal translation of his statement would be I will not stand down. Well, there goes her reason.

Her vision at last stabilized, the dose burning off a little. He was handsome. Didn´t stop her from growling again, just to spite him. She backed away from the edge of the cage, leaning on the cold wall for support.

“Why are you here?” she asked and she hated how the loathed tongue slithered from her lips with ease. His jaw tensing, fists clenching, knuckles turning white and his voice shook.

“I´m here to fight you.” She cocked her head to the side, seizing him up again, this time trying to discern not who, but what he was.

“Why are you here?” His question startled her. Such a silly question, wasn´t it obvious?

“What do you think?” She laughed bitterly.

“Wrong place, wrong time, wrong species.” The last word spat into the tense space between them. She let her head rest on the wall too, eyes half-lidded, she was tired.

“You are a wolf.”

“Excellent observational skills Sherlock, what gave me away?” She let her eyes flash silver, hissing at the sharp sting in them, face scrunching slightly. The dose was still strong.

“What´s wrong with you?” He made to step forward, barely stopping himself from doing so. Something like concern blinking through his eyes for a second. She snorted condescendingly. Foolish child. Those who feel pity for their opponents don´t survive long.

“They pumped me so the fight would be more interesting.”

“You have silver in your veins?” He shrieked suddenly, outraged, making her jump in surprise. What a weird kid, she thought.

“ _Argent, meilleur ami de dame_ , or was it the diamonds?” She furrowed her brow. The young man not catching the attempt at humour, started pacing, mumbling angrily.

“I need to…no, no, I can´t! I can´t do this. I have to. I have to! I´m sorry.” With the last sentence he turned to her, eyes brimming with sadness, but determined.

She took in a deep breath, too close to a sigh really. She leant on the wall more comfortably, trying to alleviate at least some of the discomfort the burning of her skin provided.

“Why?” She questioned, curious about this peculiarity that visited her painful and boring world. The stillness that before made him seem bleak and menacing flew away with the first flurry of movement. Somehow, he seemed so much more than before, despite the darkness he clothed himself in, he…glowed. She had to blink, it was some time since she had such thoughts. Of colours other than red and grey, of world outside. Of light.

He was hesitating.

“It´s not like there is anyone I could tell it to.” She pointedly looked around the empty room.

“And besides, I won´t have much time to spill your secret.” She smiled crookedly. He cursed, the language different from the Otherspeak, melodious and smooth in its wake. She snorted. He stared flabbergasted, right hand running through his hair.

“The need is the greatest teacher. So, will you tell me now?” She was growing impatient. He sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“I have a debt to pay.” She made a gesture for him to continue, sitting more upright to show she was listening.

“The Principal gave me an information I needed…” His voice gradually tapered off, he stared silently somewhere at the ground near her feet, lost in thought. She nodded to herself.

“What is your name witch?” He wasn´t surprised she figured it out. The smell of burnt amber and sage was tinkling her nose. He furrowed his brows, she didn´t expect him to tell her. Names held power.

“I´ll call you Jackson…” Smirk graced her features. He looked mildly scandalized and confused.

“I will help you pay your debt Witch Jackson.” She smiled, this time properly, the smile soft and somewhat sorrowful at first. The silver thrumming in her veins, eyes feral and grin becoming wild.

Lips stretched over sharp teeth.

“And maybe I´ll finally escape from this dreadful boredom.” He searched her gaze, understanding dawning upon him and something harsh, and intense entered his eyes.


	2. Chapter one- Of splinters and paid debts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had no regrets, no merci, chasing the death away every time. Dancing on tiptoes with her in a whirlwind of blood and pain. Avoiding her greedy, cold fingers with grace of a predator at the top of the food chain.   
> His unbeaten champion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, I put this here.  
> Enjoy?

The numbers looked promising tonight. Almost all seats were full and there was still some time for the arena to be bursting in seams with spectators hollering at this evening´s show. A slight smile played on the man´s face. He was contently sitting in his big chair, for all purposes a throne to lord over his domain, overlooking the bustling atmosphere around him, thick fingers donned with gold and silver rings tapping to a non-existing rhythm.

When he deemed the attendance satisfying, he nodded to the tall, slim creature to his left. As if a skeleton went on a walk and forgot to return to its resting place underground. But you wouldn´t find a speck of dirt marring his clothes, his dress coat hanging on a frail shoulders was freshly pressed and without any wrinkle. Only its face, skull like, the skin tightly sitting over the bones, the pallor that of a dead fish, was permanently curled into a sour grimace.   With a bow the looming servant turned and left. In no longer than few minutes, the buzz of the audience got louder. The usher started his speech from his heightened post, riling the crowd up.

The arena, looking much like that of the ancient Rome Colosseum, but without its stone grandeur. The blocks of calc tuff were replaced by wooden planks and steel construction. The fence surrounding the fighting space was made of iron, through it woven silver and sage. So none of the contestants could escape. Just like in an ancient Rome, this was a fight to death.

An explosion of voices and noise signalled the first contestant made his entrance. The man leaned forward in his chair, the great fat belly preventing him to move too much. The slight smile turned into a smirk on a pudgy face. His greatest treasure, his golden goose, (or should he say wolf?) was standing on the edge of the area covered in rust-coloured sand. Still, face blank, not looking at the crowd nor the opposite gate, where her opponent should appear in mere minutes. She was looking up. To where the moon sang somewhere above the clouds. Oh, how naïve he was when he found her. What a fool at the beginning, to presume the young-one would die after the first few fights. What a joy and delight she proved to be when she tore her opponents to pieces round after round, clinging to her life like a pup clings to its mother and emerging from the battles bloody and victorious every time. Even after years of torment he kept pushing her way, she was unbroken, damaged, yes. Twisted beyond recognition, he made her into his master piece- the perfect money-making machine. She had no regrets, no merci, chasing the death away every time. Dancing on tiptoes with her in a whirlwind of blood and pain. Avoiding her greedy, cold fingers with grace of a predator at the top of the food chain.

His unbeaten champion.

Crooked yellow teeth flashed as his mouth stretched into a wicked smile. Small eyes becoming smaller and disappearing under the press of round, flushed cheeks. His fingers still tapping on the armrest. The crowd roared again, the usher introducing the second fighter. The man leaned back, already knowing the result of the fight. The witch had no chance.

A few minutes into the fight, the audience was hollering, chanting names, cheering, booing and whistling. The rush of noise much like a beehive. The man´s fingers stuttered in their rhythm. Something wasn´t right. The wolf appeared out of it, with glassy look and halted movements, she barely missed two of the bolts send her way. The dose should have been mostly out of her system. She was supposed to be slower, not a damn sitting duck for the witch to shoot at. The man turned to the tall servant, growling an inquiry about who administered the dose of silver for the wolf. The servant bowed again, his spine creaking slightly and rushed away. During these few seconds the fight took a significant turn. The wolf had singed left arm, but the witch gained a slash across his ribs, blood dripping from wolf´s claws.

The crowd went wild with the smell of first blood in the air. The man´s fingers regained their previous rhythm, tapping a staccato into the wooden surface of his chair. Everything seemed to be progressing well, not counting the small hiccup at the beginning. This evening will yet prove to be profitable, the man thought.

The tall servant returned, leaning close to his master´s ear, so he could be heard. The first syllable didn´t even leave his mouth when exasperated shouts started ringing around the arena. The man was looking down into the pit, teeth clenched, the fat on his neck trembling slightly. The servant´s voice was getting louder and louder to over-shout the shrieking populace. She was given a higher dose than usually, but nothing that should have severely hindered her performance, was what the servant said. The wolf was laying on the ground, panting, not trying to stand up.

The man´s fingers stopped tapping.

The witch didn´t finish her off, he zapped the wolf, making sure she wouldn´t get up. Then his gaze travelled from her body higher, higher, until it met with the man´s in the great wooden chair.

“I won. The debt is paid.” The witch turned on his heels, walking to the edge of the fighting pit. When the gate didn´t immediately open, he slightly turned his head, waiting.

The man was at this point grinding his teeth, digging his nails into the arm rest. The crowd was yelling, thundering the name of the new champion. The man didn´t have any other choice. The rules were clear. The winner can walk and it wasn´t clever to deny. Not in a place as this. He jerked his head. The gate opened and the witch walked away. The man looked down once again, splinters from his wooden chair cutting into his meaty, tender hands. The wolf was left laying on the rust-coloured sand, the smell of burnt amber singed into her brain like a brand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I either take all information from various sources or from my own head, there may appear discrepancies regarding mythology, herbology, etc. If anyone sees something like this, please let me know.


	3. Chapter two- Of falling leaves and spring flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes she would catch glimpses of the sky. Through the bars of her cage, when the covers on the truck weren´t tied so carefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one. Cause Ima impatient wolf.

             Sometimes she would catch glimpses of the sky. Through the bars of her cage, when the covers on the truck weren´t tied so carefully. The Principal had them moving quite often in the early years of her imprisonment. Either because of unfavourable conditions in their previous location (be it economic, religious, political situations or the wars and skirmishes humans waged against each other that were still plentiful even in the 20th century) or because the Principal himself became unfavourable amongst the court. Usually the later. The man always knew how to get into the good graces of courtiers, but only for a time. He always out spoke himself out of them rather quickly, being rash and impatient, lacking the nuance and grace the born nobles possessed to survive in the court ruled by fae and the Others.

They were once again in some eastern country. Asian people milling around in mock-chaotic pattern. She wondered the first few times, why is no one surprised to see a person in a cage or does something about it? Only later she realized. They cannot see her. Nor hear.

She leaned against the bars, these one made of iron. Her compliance tied with a silver collar and chain, burning her skin, shooting needles of pain into her brain with every breath. At least moving her eyes didn´t hurt. She let her gaze roam, planting the images of colourful city into her memory, to take out later when open space and fresh air seemed like a distant dream, soon to be forgotten in the sharp pain of the waking world.

Movement in one of the several cages placed under the tarp tore her from her fantasy. She saw herself out there, with people rushing about, exploring the city, trying the exotic foods whose smell made her stomach gurgle and tense. She shuffled slightly, not wanting to move if it wasn´t necessary. She listened closely, but the sound soon stopped. One of the creatures waking up for a moment, but soon after realizing they were still on route, albeit at snail´s pace, turned in the limited space of the cage and fell promptly back asleep.

A gust of wind brought her back from her inner world. The breeze brought familiar yet new scent to her nose.

Flowers.

She moved her gaze sharply back to the crack between the covers. Beautiful pink petals flew gently in a wide arch across the span of blue sky.

Oh, she realized, it must be spring.

 

            She was jostled awake. Someone was moving her body. She tried taking in the scents around her. Humans, rotting food, stale urine, a cat or two and rats. No silver. A surprise rattled through her, making her gasp and take in a deeper breath.

Burnt amber.

Her eyelids fluttered, slowly lifting. Blurred shadows welcomed her with dull grey and darker grey colours. No difference there, flew through her mind. One of them moved, shifting closer. Instead of grey it was sort of brown with a splash of peach.

“You awake?” The strange blur asked. She recognized that voice. And that smell. The blur moved even closer. A face, suddenly too close to her, warm breath brushing her cheek, a face singed into her memory. Burning bright, she hoped he would be her own little sun, making her a little bit warmer when the cold of the cement floor and blood loss bit harshly at her bones. When all she had was the glow of a young, foolishly brave witch she once knew, the daylight´s warm kisses all but faded from her memory.

But he was here.

And they were not in her cage.

Her eyes flickered around, passing the grey walls of the building and the darker grey of a dumpster. An alley. They were in the entrance to some unnamed alley, exactly the same as thousands of others in the great city. Her gaze settled on a strip of bright blue sky between the buildings, the sun peeking from around the corner, making her squint. Tears began falling from her eyes, from bright light or the sudden relief, when her heart just expanded in her chest, beating strong and deafening to her own ears, after the realization that she is outside settled in, she didn´t know.

And frankly she didn´t care.

“You came back?” All her attention now on him, the intended statement more of a question rattling like old bones from her throat. The witch seemed anxious, scanning their surroundings and any person that passed by their temporary hideout. After the question, he turned to her. Seeing her tears, he reached one hand to brush them away.

“I did.” A smile broke on his face, fragile, shaking years off of his appearance. An image of a puppy flashed in her mind.

“Listen I´m going to get us out of here, but it may hurt you since the silver is still in your system and it´s going to fuck with the casting. Think you can handle it?” He put a big hand on her shoulder, she was too tired to think about the touch. Warmth started seeping into her skin even through layers of cloth. She nodded. Anything to get away. She presumed they were already searching for them. Her muddled brain let her know, that´s why he took her during the daylight. Less guards.

“Ok, deep breath. Don´t fight it.” Chilly breeze ruffled their hair, the witch´s lips moving, mumbling, eyes half-lidded. A yellowed leaf flew through the space between them.

Oh, she thought, as strange energy hugged her body, her muscles starting to seize in burning agony, the crack of a pathway opening resonating in her ear,

it´s fall already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Jackson seems OOC, well it´s just as it is. I took who he is, a good person, a hard worker, an adorable puppy and hotness on legs, and I molded my Jackson after him. The man that we see on stage is indoubtedly an amazing person and a frikkin awesome role model, but my Jackson shows us also the dark side of a person, because he can. So I am not gonna apologize for this, I write fiction, thus things are made as I need and want them to be.  
> Rant over, peace sweetlings.  
> Akki out.


	4. Chapter three- Of threads that bind us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She woke up once again in an unknown place in a span of several hours. This better not become a habit, she thought.

                She woke up once again in an unknown place in a span of several hours. This better not become a habit, she thought. She tried sitting up, leaning on her elbows, muscles screaming with soreness, her skin itching. She shut her eyes tightly, breathing through the vertigo.

“Rise and shine. I was starting to doubt you are a wolf. More like a bear with the way you were hibernating.” The witch sing-songed from across the room, moving to the bed she was half- laying at, his step bouncy.

“Shut up, your voice is hurting me.” She gritted through clenched jaw. The sudden sound sending spikes to her temples.

“Not nice. But I guess that´s understandable after the last two days.” She dared opening one eye to look at him. He was smiling, something tense rested over his face. Tiredness hung around him like a cloud. He was holding a mug with a steaming liquid that smelled not quite like her grandmother´s honey cakes and herbal tea.

“Two days?”

“After the crossing, well, …you were in a bad shape.” He didn´t tell her how they emerged from the pathway. How she screamed and convulsed on the floor, black veins of silver poisoning criss-crossing her skin. How he, stunned in sheer panic, for a second hesitated before he rushed in a flurry of movement. Getting her onto a bed proved to be a challenge, her strength even after all the ordeals greatly surpassing his. He didn´t tell her how she caught him on a shoulder with one of her flying fists. He still had a black bruise. After tying her wild limbs, he scurried of to make a concoction that would let the silver leave her system. Running around his home and breaking a thing or two, he gathered bezoar for poisoning, adding yarrow and valerian root to boost the primary. Then a dash of ginger to help the organism secrete the poison and clove to finish the potion (and to make it even mildly drinkable).

It took two days.

 

Two days of her constant screams and pitiful whimpers filling his ears and when she quieted down, him frantically checking for a beating heart. Two days of making her drink the potion, spoon after spoon after spoon of endless drops to pass her lips. Even when she kept crying no, please, stop it, it hurts, make it stop! Two days of him washing her skin tinted grey from sweat mixed with the metal burning her innards. Two days of mumbling sorry, sorry, I´m so sorry, shhhh, it´s going to be okay, not really knowing if he was telling the truth or just wishing it to be, while he spread healing balm on her burning skin, wiping distractedly at his own tears of exhaustion and frustration, concentrating solely on her. Two days of no sleep, paranoia tugging at his eyelids, keeping them stubbornly up, because what if? What if her erratic heart suddenly hiccups and freezes in a surprised stupor. As it usually becomes when sleep is an exotic bird, one minute here and the second a doubt in its place if it even existed, the details blend together in the long hours, the body moving on its own, not much thought being put into the movements. He remembers clearly only two things. A string of names being called into the night, names belonging to a life he possibly couldn´t know, the void swallowing them and returning only callous silence as a response to the pleas. And his own rage, strengthened by his helplessness to do anything more for a person in such a pain, festering like an old wound, bubbling and growing, threatening to spill over the man who brought this misery upon them.

He came out of his daze. Blue eyes looking at him curiously. The corners of his lips lifted in a gentle smile, he handed her the mug he was up till now cradling.

“It took two days for the poison to get out of your system and for your healing to kick in. It will probably take a few more days for you to feel relatively normal. The tea should take care of any remaining traces of the metal in your blood.” He motioned to the mug now being held tightly in her palms. Her brows furrowed, nose scrunching at the scent when she gave the dark brown liquid an apprehensive look.

“I don´t think I know what it feels like to be normal anymore.” She muttered, a puzzled expression settling over her features. He glossed over the statement, not wanting to address the reason for her apparently unique situation (maybe not so unique as it ought to be) and rather fixated on her clear scruple to drink.

“If I wanted to poison you, I wouldn´t break you out of that cage and then nursed you back to health, don´t you think?” He looked mock hurt, certainly meaning to clear the tense air between them, but only serving to bring back into focus something she meant to ask from the beginning.

“Why?

“Huh? Why would I poison you? Or what…?” She stopped him before he could start babbling, it seemed he had a propensity to do so.

“No. Why… saving me?” Her question was hesitant. If she managed to anger him, he might withdraw his generosity, and she wasn’t in a state for now where she could afford it. Better to tread lightly and see what his reasons are, before she decided to act in one direction or the other. So, she gazed at him with wide eyes, the mug cradled to her chest, a perfect picture of supplication and weakness. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. Fighting with himself to give a good enough reason to explain his actions.

“Honestly? I, I don´t know. I was halfway to here when I realized it was the right thing to do. And my grandma would bludgeon me with her cane if I left a maiden to such a faith.” He stuttered through his answer. Eyes downcast, only fingers peeking from his palms hidden in a black sweater.

“Maiden?” One of her eyebrows climbed dangerously close to her hairline, face curled into amusement laced with disbelief. He actually blushed and she found it somehow endearing.

“She wouldn´t be.” His head snapped up due to her comment. She had a soft smile, something new and unusual for her to wear, blowing at the steam before she took a first sip from the mug, and grimacing in disgust at the appalling taste.

Jackson, and yes, it may have been a time for him to take a new name, started laughing, the sound loud and unhinged.

“Yes, it doesn´t taste very well.” She shot him a glare, but the corner of her lip twitched up in mirth. What a peculiar creature she ended up with.

 

            She was sitting in a big garden chair on the porch, the back of the house facing deep forest. She didn´t know the exact location of the house, somewhere in the bowels of China. But it wasn´t far away enough to be safe. The house once belonged to Jackson´s grandmother, she understood why he was hesitant to leave even after her incessant reasoning. He snapped a no at her, claiming it to be safe here, his magic strong enough. She huffed and stomped out. She owed him and no less than the pitiful remainders she called her life. She was reluctant to trust his kindness beyond what he already did. No one does anything for free, not even the chicken peck´s for free. She was waiting for him to voice his price, but any longer and she would have to leave her debt unpaid. It wasn´t very smart to owe a witch and it surely wasn´t safe. They had their reputation for a reason. She bid her time, for now she could stay a little longer. Her wolf was starting to stir, becoming restless. She scanned the yellows and oranges of autumn woods. The free, uncharted space and crisp air tempting her to run.

She sighed, lifting her body from the comfort of cushions. After three days of rest and Jackson´s surprisingly gentle care (he was such a mother-hen, this one), most of her wounds were healed. She still felt heaviness in her bones and her muscles tired after a simple walk. The hardest was to build a wall between her emotions and her, the frightening tidal wave of experiences, sensations, feelings and memories trying to swallow her like wild water. She was largely successful, most of the time. Nightmares were a thing these nights and it seemed they will be for a long time to come. Curious they didn´t come knocking upon her dreams while she was there, maybe her existence back then was a nightmare enough on itself. The sleep an oh so brief respite.

Despite all this she finally felt alive.

She descended the two stairs from porch, the boots Jackson provided her were two sizes bigger, making her gait resemble an uncoordinated fawn. She started walking towards the wood.

“Hey. Where are you going?” Jackson´s head was poking from the door, an anxious look settled on his face.

“For a walk.” She replied, not turning his way.

“Oh, okay, but don´t go farther than the brook, that´s where the barrier ends.” The rigidness melted away from his shoulders, he called after her in a chirpy voice, any sign of previous anger gone.

Barrier? She twisted her upper body, feet planted onto ground, to ask what he meant. But Jackson was already inside the house, puttering around as she saw through the small window. She shrugged her shoulders, she would just ask him after her walk.

The invisible path led her deep into the forest. She stopped, closed her eyes and just listened. The sounds around her were stark and clear, not muffled by thick walls, or echoes repeated over and over as they carried from the outside. The smells clean and earthy, not the cloying rank of blood and pain. She didn´t need to open her eyes, the forest spoke to her through her other senses, painting an image that was almost identical to the one that welcomed her after her eyelids fluttered open. She breathed through her nose, taking in a deep lungfuls of air, getting reacquainted with the outside world that she was for so long denied. She started walking again, taking a sharp left when she heard the babbling brook and the forest started smelling of fresh water (quite clever, to build the house where streams were a plenty, as running water was a natural barrier against number of creatures), so she could circle the house and not leave the barrier Jackson told her about.

Jackson.

The man was a mystery to her. A witch (not so typical for a male to inherit this title). Not as young as he made himself appear. Cheerful, puppy-like demeanour at some instances easily sliding into a serious and intense focus. He was capable and quite powerful, easily glanced from their fight or the way he handled their escape and her following recovery. He encased himself in a shell, that clammed up at any mention of his family or his previous life. Yet, she felt goodness ooze from him, a certain fragility to him. Her wolf snorted loudly at her in her mind. She was too soft on him, she knew. Ever since those two doe eyes blinked at her from across the silver bars, she knew he was trouble. She kicked a pebble, already halfway around the house. She heard a rabbit to her right and a crow three trees left, up in the branches. Satisfied her surroundings posed no danger, she continued her musings.

Her mother once told her, take care of your friends and they will take care of you. Jackson wasn´t her friend, yet he put his life in danger for her. The least she could do, was return the favour. If Jackson refused to listen to her reasoning, she would leave. The Principal would follow her trail and Jackson would be safe. Debt paid.

 

            She finally circled back to the house. She could smell her own scent and see her footsteps.

Along with several others.

Dirt and dead leaves flew into air, her feet gaining speed despite the unsuitable footwear, breaths leaving her lungs in quick pants. She made it back to the porch in three minutes. The door was kicked in, just two steps in a figure wearing a dark cloak, facing away from her, yelling something. She didn´t slow down, barrelling into the figure, sending them both on the floor. Not wasting any time, she snapped the man´s spine (questions can be asked later, if there was anyone left to be asked). She spit the cloying stink of rotting blood from her mouth, warlocks. The Principal found them. Eyes turned silver, her wolf half was raging and she with it. They soiled a sanctuary, a memory of happier times. They were trying to kill him. And bring her back.

She wasn´t going back!

Taking a second to assess the situation and push the wolf down (not yet, she thought), she looked around. There were two more of the filthy mercenaries. One already turning her way, beginning of a bolt sparkled between his fingers. The second had Jackson covering behind a sturdy oak table in what was once a kitchen. The witch shot a glance her way, mumbling and throwing a fistful of something into the warlock´s face that made him screech. She quickly returned her gaze to her own opponent, at last second diving into the hallway not to get fried by a lightning bolt. She growled, she hated when they sent magic users against her in the pit. But right now, she was actually thankful. She jumped back into the room, twisting to right and grabbing a handful of ashes from the hearth. Avoiding another bolt, she hid behind the couch, the small window facing the forest now behind her. She peeked above it, the warlock was striding towards her. She let him come close enough, then hurled herself over the furniture, tossing the ashes into his face. One thing the pit taught her, take their sight and the magic users are practically done for. The warlock reached for his eyes, but she didn´t give him time to do anything else, grabbing his throat in one hand and crushing his windpipe.

Panting, sweat flowing down her back she whirled into the kitchen, or its remnants, only to find Jackson standing above a similarly dead mercenary.

“Took you long enough.” He lifted one eyebrow, stepping over the prone body to rummage through the broken flasks and jars on the kitchen counter.

“I took down two, if you didn´t notice.” He clicked his tongue. She felt anger radiating from him. He had all the rights to be angry at her. She knew it, but it still tugged at something painfully raw inside her.

“Now do you believe me we can´t stay here?” He froze, spine rigid.

“More will come, Jackson. And the next time it won´t be dumb blood-thieves. They will send something bigger. We need to leave!” She hesitantly took two steps closer. Urgency clear in her voice.

“There is no need for that. I´ll just make the shields stronger…”

“That won´t help!”

“And how do you know that?! You are a wolf, what do you know about magic?!” He snapped, voice rising, chest heaving, at the end he was screaming. She flinched, but his stubbornness just made her angry.

“Stupid wolf.” She pushed through painfully clenched teeth, the sound barely a whisper. Oh, how many times did she hear a different variety of the same two words. She took in a deep breath, the burnt amber stinging in her nose.

“Yes, …maybe I am.” Coldness roamed her eyes, a clear snap of a broken bond that barely started to form, reverberated between the two.

“What would I know, being closed in a cage for how many decades, let out only to kill and mangle and being oh so graciously let free by you…” Jackson´s eyes were wide, brows drawing together in realization. She had a frigid smile pasted on her face.

“I know one thing. They have my wire. They have my blood and they have my hair. The Principal doesn´t work without an insurance. They can find me anywhere, even under your shields, you know blood magic can do that, Jackson.” She finished calmly, hands previously clenched into fists, now lay motionless by her sides, her palms bleeding from the crescents wounds. The warlocks are mere pawns, a gun-fodder to send their way, they posses the brute force, but lack any real talent. Stealing blood and pain to gain power, they are no more than rotten thieves with few tricks up their sleeves. What comes after them next, might just be above their capabilities.

She waited.

 This was his home, where the memories lived in the furniture, in the scrapes doting the wooden floor, in herbs and ingredients handpicked and stashed in alphabetical order, in the table made from oak struck by lightning, the silver veins criss-crossing the wood frozen in dance-like image; now laying upturned in the broken remnants of once organized and clean kitchen. Broken. She broke his home. A smidgen of cold thawed.

A disappointed sigh was her answer to his continuing silence. She shouldn´t have expected anything more. This was as far as his kindness went and as far as she was willing to extend her gratitude. An option. His choice.

“I´m leaving.” She turned on her heel, resolute, trying to put distance between them so she wouldn´t waver.

“No. I´ll go. We will go. Just… just give me a few minutes.” As if woken from a deep sleep he scrambled to start gathering things. As he was rushing past her, she snatched him by the arm.

“Take only what you need, they won´t expect these three at least for another few hours, but it´s better to be safe.” He nodded, bewildered. She returned the nod, some of the stiffness leaving her body. It took him less than thirty minutes to gather his belongings into a single duffle bag. She stood on the porch, not having anything to pack. She was listening, scenting the air, trying to detect any incoming danger, her nerves high-strung.

“Where to?” He asked.

“Far away.”

“How far away?” He brushed their shoulders together, an attempt to apologize, but in this moment, it was an unwelcome distraction. She turned to face him and so putting some space between them.

“As far away as you can. The distance will weaken the link, they won´t be able to find me so quickly.”

“Ok.” Jackson took her hands into his, she begrudgingly let him. They were warm.

“So where are you taking us?”

“USA.” She didn´t have time to protest, when the pathway crackled open and swallowed them whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes I though would help, sorry for the lenght, I´m a nerd :D
> 
> Okay, the potion I wrote about is totally made up, so please don´t try to recreate it. It shouldn´t hurt you, but just to be safe. All ingredients I listed (except for bezoar, thats more of a myth) are actual medicinal herbs that work in case of mild poisoning, like food poisoning, but I don´t know what they would do put together like this, so just to be safe :D and since this is a fanfiction and I am not a herbologist or a witch (sadly) lets say they would work for the sake of the story. Okay? Okay.
> 
> Another interesting fact (at least for me) it is true that running water actually stops some kinds of mythological creatures, for examples vampires are said to not be able to cross it.
> 
> This I made up half way, kinda, it is true that if a witch (or a spell caster) has your hair and blood you are in trouble, like really big trouble. Be careful where you brush your hair kids! I just gave it a name- wire. Don´t know if it was used like this somewhere else, but I don´t really care, I like it :D.
> 
> Sooo, that´s all. Peace and happy holidays, whatever you are celebrating!!!  
> Akki out.


	5. Chapter Four- Of journeys beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She finally took in her surroundings. They landed in a far corner of a motel parking lot, a great tree and some bushes shading them from prying eyes. The motel just a few metres away, a bright spot in the otherwise dark landscape. Where the hell did Jackson took them?

              The pathway spat them out onto the gravel almost reluctantly. The night sizzled with power and the tension crackled in the air. She was certain one was not supposed to feel how they were pushed through the veil dividing this world and the space in-between. Usually traveling this way takes only a second and one doesn´t even notice something happened. Yet, their journey reminded her of a complicated labour, taking too long with both parties sapped off of their strength, the relief palpable when the act is finished and both sides could suck a deep breath into their lungs. She certainly felt like a new born colt, barely few minutes in the new world and already aware everything was out to get her. Her knees did the imitation pretty well, feeling like they were made of jelly. Her nose was bleeding and death-like cold, that had nothing to do with the autumn chill, settled in her bones, making her tremble. She looked around wildly. Jackson was two metres to her right, laying on the ground, breath wheezing past his lips, he was shaking terribly. She crawled to him. He was bleeding from his nose and eyes and she noticed after further inspection, from his ears too.

“Jackson. Jackson? Wake up!” She shook him lightly when he wasn’t reacting to her voice. He started coughing, a fine spray of bloody mist settled on her face. Blood in lungs never meant anything good. Panic tried to swallow her, rising like a tidal wave, threatening to sweep her away, yet it crashed and broke on years of determination and stubbornness.

“Jackson! Wake up! What should I do?” She shook him more strongly. His eyelids fluttered, eyes opening only a fraction. Pupils dilated, gaze flickering, apparently not really seeing.

“Jackson. Jackson, it´s me. Something, something went wrong. We made it, but you… How can I help?” His lips trembled, voice rough, barely hearable.

“Drain´d…crystal, ´npocket…” He swallowed and started coughing again, more blood staining his lips. She searched through his pockets and found a clear crystal maybe ten centimetres long and a pretty blue stone.

“I found them, Jackson. What now?” She cradled his cheek, to anchor his attention to her, in left hand she squeezed the stones.

“´est…put on…chest…” his voice faded away, eyes closing. She quickly did as she was told. Knowing enough of magic, she pushed her hand under Jackson´s shirt, placing the crystal and blue stone near his heart. She let her hand linger, his skin was cold and clammy, opposite of the usual warmth he radiated. She felt tears sting behind her eyes. What a great predator she was, wolf that can´t keep safe even one person, letting them get hurt again and again. What a great monster she was, crying like a youngling scared by a moving shadow.

She shook her head. Now was not the time to break down. Closing her eyes shut tight, deep shuddering breaths brought a rush of oxygen to her brain. Resolve coming back in small increments.

She finally took in her surroundings. They landed in a far corner of a motel parking lot, a great tree and some bushes shading them from prying eyes. The motel just a few metres away, a bright spot in the otherwise dark landscape. Where the hell did Jackson took them?

           

The motel was called Lucky Seven and looked positively shady. Exactly what they needed. Here, they wouldn´t ask them any questions. It took her almost fifteen minutes to make herself leave Jackson. Not wanting to leave him laying on a ground, defenceless. A bitter laugh bubbled in her throat, face the truth Val, she chided herself. Anxious, she was anxious to have a first conversation with a human after some fifty years, in a strange land, through a foreign language, that she barely knew half a dozen words from. Her wolf lurked in the depths of her mind, anxious, for entirely different reasons.

After she made sure no one but the night-shift clerk was in the vicinity, she pocketed some of the money she knew Jackson stashed in the duffle bag. Cleaning her face with sleeve of her jacket, she took in a steadying breath and strode into the reception.

She tried not to rush too much through the proceedings to get a room. Answering with only one or two words for each question, barely understanding what she was asked. The clerk looked at her with bored expression, raising an uninterested eyebrow at her one room, two persons. But didn´t ask for any ID´s and that made her sag slightly in relief. She took the key carefully and made her way out. Her patience running out once on the fresh air, she bolted to where she left the witch´s body.

She put the duffle-bag crosswise and lifted Jackson´s unconscious self. She cradled his head into the crook of her neck and hurried to their room so as not to be seen by anybody. Once there, she grimaced at the poorly disguised smells, but it would have to do for now. She gently laid Jackson on the bed, checking and correcting the placement of the crystals, noting the stones warmed and hummed slightly upon touch, she washed the blood from his face and ears, took his boots off, and slid him under the sheets, trying to warm him a little. Done with this, all that was left, was to wait. She slid down the wall across from bed, hands lifelessly resting on the floor, the grey carpet winking at her with burned holes, and let herself break down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time that we, and yes that means me too, actually get to know the character´s name. She, Val as she likes to be called, appeared to me already as a full fledged character, I knew her background, her history and yet I didn´t know what to call her other than Wolf. Because that´s what she is in this story, she is a Wolf and a human and woman only after that. And because I am a meanie I´m not going to use her full name yet, that´s gonna be a surprise :D.
> 
> If anyone is interested what stones I meant in the story a short description is gonna be riight under here:
> 
>  
> 
> Clear Quartz- Enhances the crystalline properties of blood, body and mind; receives, activates, transmits, and amplifies energy
> 
> Blue Lace Agate- Helps to bring balance when chakra is overstimulated


	6. Chapter Five- Of worlds beyond ours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a table. On that table a single candle. And a little flame merrily dancing in the oppressive quiet of enclosed space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look what we have here, new characters *claps enthusiastically*.   
> I have a habit of going twice or even thrice over the chapter. Despite that there are almost surely typos and plot holes.  
> If anyone falls into one XD just holler at me, please.

              There was a chill in the room. The stone walls doing nothing to block the cold away. Blocks of granite adorned the floor and the ceiling too. The room wasn´t big, it wasn´t small either. No windows and no doors to change the monotony of the grey slabs of stone. There was nothing to generate sound, yet the silence kept echoing against the solid walls, making it grow and grow and grow, until it was so big it filled the room completely. Leaving no space, not even for a whisper to slip in. But it wasn´t really empty.

There was a table. On that table a single candle. And a little flame merrily dancing in the oppressive quiet of enclosed space. The flame was petite, barely casting any shadow, but it pushed through the dark with a stubbornness unseen even in the brightest of stars. The light flickering, creating abstract shapes on the simple wooden table. Dancing for No One and Nobody.

The silence of the room was suddenly disturbed. A door, a hidden door in one of the stone walls opened. Rushing in came harsh sounds and bright, too bright, light. A locket of hair covered in blood landed before the table.

“Find her.”

The flame stopped flickering and went out, leaving the candle and the table to the dark dead silence of the empty room.

…

            After years in cage she started to appreciate the simple things. Like being able to move around without the constant oppression of silver bars. In moments when her resolve was crushed into small pieces, the flames of fight subdued into glowing coals, when she was just so, so tired. In those moments, the Principal liked to parade her on a silver leash around for his honoured visitors, to see what a proud creature he managed to tame. To show her as the prized dog that she was. She hated those moments the most. The cold, appraising, mocking, lustful or unmoved eyes made bile climb into her throat. But. She could walk. In the streets of ever-living Shanghai, the lights and smells exploding in her for sensation starved brain.

Unfortunately (?). Her stubbornness always came back, rearing its fangs filled head and sending her back to the intimately familiar enclosure of her cage.

That´s why a simple walk to the grocery store made her exhilarated like an eight-year old on a school trip. Despite her wolf straining against her mind-walls, asking to be let free, she had a bounce in her step. She shouldn´t leave Jackson alone for long, the witch had yet to wake up, but she was hungry.

Hungry wolf is possibly the most dangerous thing you can encounter in a daylight. Where do you think the story of Little Red Riding Hood came from? She let her gaze roam across the small town, village more like, they were currently stuck in. Towns like this were and weren´t good for hiding. The sparse population zeroed in on you as soon as you poked your nose in. On the other hand, your pursuers would have great difficulty even finding such a tiny city on a map (making her wonder if this was actually Jackson´s intention all along), or on Google. That was a thing. The internet and computers, as she none too gently learned from the desk-clerk. Could you blame her? The last time she could marvel at the humanity´s technological progress was shortly after the Second World War.

Everything around her felt so alien she easily could have been on an entirely different planet. She reached the grocery store, the automatic doors opened, making her flinch subtly. It was now almost seventeen hours since they landed here and since Jackson fell unconscious. Her mind kept reminding her to hurry, the anxious wolf inside her kept growling softly, but insistently. She sucked in a steadying breath. She was already here, she can do it. The late afternoon sun was streaming through the glass panels lining one side of the store. She looked around and promptly froze. So much food. In one place. She still kept forgetting its not the War anymore and the food is aplenty. Well, at least in this country. She tried to spot something that would sate her hunger the fastest when a plump woman in her early fifties walked up to her.

“Can I help you, dearie?”  The woman asked kindly, her round cheeks shining with healthy pink, a colourful, flowery apron hugging her round body. She smelled of stale sorrow.

“Ah…” She startled, not used for anyone to actually talk to her, or talk without any intention of hurting her if her response was unsatisfying. She had to curb in her first instinct to snarl, telling the wolf (and herself) that the woman was not a threat.

“Ah, food? Friend is sick.” She clamped her mouth shut, stopping the embarrassing attempt at English, uncertain if she even made sense in a language, she used so sparsely in her captivity.

“But of course, sweetheart, let´s find you something hearty. That belly needs some filling if I may say so…” The woman brushed a hand over her full figure. Val looked at her bony fingers, sharp hips jutting out of her pants. Where were the curves she once used to wear so proudly? Lost in the rust coloured sand and agony of hated grey metal. Now only sinew and bone remained, sharp and tough was the way to survive. The softness has no place in the pit.

Ashamed of her state a blush crept over her cheeks.

“Oh, do not worry, pumpkin, a few good meals and you will be back to normal.” The woman must have picked up on her discomfort, showing she was more observant than her cheerful, motherly look gave off. Her wolf set a calculating gaze on the woman.

They moved together through the aisles, picking this and that and gradually her discomfort around the woman lessened. She didn´t trust her. She wasn´t an idiot, but she let the woman move into her personal space when she turned with something or other, claiming this is just what she needs to make a dinner without a proper kitchen bearable. When was the last time she cooked? A thought made her gaze into the distance for a moment, a forlorn expression settling on her face. So long, it was so long ago.

“I think we have everything, darling, so let´s sort you out so you can be on your way to your friend.” She smiled. Val made her face carefully blank, nodding. She thought, she might have liked this woman, back in the days. Even her wolf was slightly amused by the onslaught of different pet names the woman kept calling them. She kept realizing, the beast was starting to show more personality each day. Not just a mindless monster raging inside her head every second of the day, beating against the restraints she created to protect her own self. She wondered what would happen if she allowed it to roam free.

“Remember, the soup and fruit are for your friend, since they are sick, they won´t be able to stomach anything else…” The woman explained everything and sent her away with a warm smile. Val was confused why the woman kept saying they when she realized she never told what gender her friend was. Language was a strange beast, evolving on its own, all it needed was time. She hoped it wouldn´t take long for her to get a grasp of it, she would need it.

She took a step into the chilly air, the sun already set. This notion made her rush, she spent too much time in the store.

 

She barged through the motel room door, heart pumping and looked around wildly. Everything was as she left it, even Jackson. The steady rise and fall of his chest finally made her relax. She closed the door. The groceries placed on a rickety table across from the bed. She closed the distance to Jackson´s side in two steps. Brushing her fingers against his cheek, he was warm again. A trembling sigh left her lips. The future world was a terrifying place. And exhausting. Going back to the groceries, she rummaged through the bag, in the end eating everything that wasn´t for Jackson. Her stomach grumbled. She had to leave another visit to the store for another day, possibly longer. It wasn´t safe leaving the witch alone. Another thing was their financial situation. She now knew. They don´t have enough. If Jackson stays bed-ridden much longer, more than a few days, they would have to run.

She folded her body on the ground across from the bed, much like yesterday. A restlessness settling into her bones. In the quiet of the evening stray thoughts that just swam at edge of her consciousness came barging in, fighting for a spotlight in her mind´s eye. Why? Why help her? Of course, the witch gave her a reason, a pretty, sweet, innocent reason tied with a bow of familial love. She wasn´t born yesterday, even the second time she came to this world, as a monster, was a long time ago. People don´t do anything, for nothing. Not with just a memory of someone long gone as a reason. She knew why she stayed with Jackson. He posed a great strategic advantage, also she couldn´t lie to herself that she was a little fond of the peculiar witch. But why was Jackson staying with her? Why did he almost killed himself just to get her out of reach of her captors, temporarily might she add. Because they will catch up to them, it was inevitable. But that thought would have to wait for another day. What was his motivation and what was he expecting to gain in the end?  After two hours of listening to Jackson´s heartbeat for any kind of change and to her surrounding for any sign of incoming danger, she fell into a fitful sleep. Nightmares soon following.

 

She woke up with a gasp, nails digging into already torn carpet, heart hammering like a humming-bird´s wings. The tail of the nightmare still blinking before her eyes. She swallowed, throat dry, eyes glazing over with tears.

“Val?” A croaky voice and two brown eyes gazing at her from bed. The tears that threatened to spill started rolling down her face.

“Jackson?” She whispered back.

 

…

 

            JB wasn´t a complicated wolf. He liked his work in the small-town library. He liked splurging on dinner when his pay-check came in. He liked running in the deep forest surrounding the little town, hunting for rabbits and sometimes, if he felt adventurous, a young deer. He liked being alone. And he didn´t like Alphas.

Well, the last two weren´t entirely true, but who was there to question him. The little town that he currently resided in was a carbon copy of the ones on every post-card of a picturesque, peaceful town ever built in American history. It was boring.

Every Halloween, the local kids would dare each other to knock on the door of the grey and gloomy looking house on the outskirts. JB really didn´t care about the appearance of his dwelling. It was a roof above his head and that was enough. He will be moving in a few years either way, he was starting to look too young for his age. The age printed on his professionally faked ID. Maybe that was why the house-wives around here kept inviting him for the Thanksgiving dinner. Claiming that such a good-looking young man shouldn´t be alone on such an evening and can they introduce their daughter, niece, cousin to him? He always politely declined, giving an excuse of going to visit his family.

He didn´t lie, not exactly. Even if their graves weren´t in this country, or on this continent. He would go to the woods, after a short walk, he would add another stone he previously picked to the slowly growing pile, clearing the debris and sending a short prayer. Hoping they found peace wherever they were now. Several hunters in various countries were quite puzzled because of similar little stone towers they found.

No, the town or life in it wasn´t interesting. But it was safe. Safer. For everyone.

It wasn´t home. It definitely wasn´t pack. It was something JB needed to bite through, get out of his bed, pacify his wolf with a hearty breakfast and sort through the wall of the new batch of books that came yesterday. An anonymous donation. Someone doing charity. Charity my ass, thought JB when he was locking the doors of library at three in the morning. Some of the books piqued his interest, but most of them were either too technical (who in the name of gods above them wrote a book about screws? Who read it?), or they belonged into the lonely-house-wives-section-only. He was cradling one of the books under his arm, fighting with a head-strong lock.

_The History of Korean Wolves_

_“In present era, there are no wolves in the territory of Korean peninsula.”_

Was a first sentence that greeted him when he opened the book. Morbid curiosity made him try to read more about his furry cousins and after first chapter he was positively appalled. Maybe he had masochistic tendencies. Why else taking the book with him home? There are no wolves in Korea, thought JB bitterly, not anymore.

Standing there, before the door to the library, keys in hand, his sullen contemplation was disturbed by a sudden shuffling noise. He jerked around, finally conscious of the world around him. The book fell to the ground when he took in a lungful of air, smelling another wolf. The lanky figure before him was equally surprised and confused. JB quickly assessed the strange wolf, coming up with two things. He…was young. He was too young. The boy standing, shivering, looking awkward holding a backpack in his left hand, couldn´t be more than fourteen or fifteen. JB had never seen, nor heard of a wolf so young. They didn´t survive the change. He kept staring at the boy until the child started fidgeting.

“I didn´t… I wasn´t going to steal!” Came startingly loud voice in the silence of the sleeping town. Both of them cringed, realizing this. JB cocked his head to the side, eyebrows rising.

 “I just… I just wanted to spend the night there, to… to sleep. I swear! I wasn´t…wasn´t going to do something bad or steal, I just needed…needed a place to stay. I wasn´t expecting anyone…to be here so late. I would have left in few hours.” The pups voice was gradually growing more and more quiet until it wasn´t above a whisper, shame colouring his cheeks. JB blinked. He doesn´t know. He thinks JB is a human. Does he not use his nose? Is JB the first wolf the pup ever met? Given how young he was and… JB took in a deep breath, he didn´t smell of any different wolves. He must have been a victim of a rogue attack. They happened sometimes. When the wolf lost control, went crazy for whatever reason, usually age, they became rogues. Attacking and eating humans until some other member of the pack took them down. Sometimes, there were survivors of the attacks. Like the pup standing on the brink of crying just two steps away from him.

The rogue must have gotten far if the local Alpha didn´t find this one. He put his keys into the pocket of his jeans.

“Why do you need a place to stay?” The pup startled, snapping his gaze to look frightened at JB.

“I…I…” He couldn´t get a word out, not knowing how to explain his situation. JB took pity on the poor boy. Descending the two steps leading to the library, closing the space between them. The pup jumped, backing away panicked. JB stopped, quirking his left eyebrow.

“Do you know what I am?” The boy opened and closed his mouth, confused.

“Take a deep breath.” Hands in pockets, stance loose, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. Any other wolf wouldn´t believe him even for a second. There was power thrumming inside JB´s blood, it permeated his scent like a cologne. But this bumbling pup of a boy clearly didn´t know anything about scents, if he didn´t even recognize one of his own kind.

“I…” He clamped his mouth closed at JB´s impatient look. He took in a gulp of air, scrunching his nose.

“You… you smell… familiar.” Not danger. Not friend. Not even animal. The pup said he smelled familiar.

“Do you know what you are?”

He couldn´t admit to anyone that his hands, hidden in the pockets, started shaking slightly.

“I´m a monster.” No hesitation, no stuttering. Just a coldly stated fact. The eyes that looked at him now were blank, resigned. The kid completely believed what he said.

“Not a monster.”

JB smirked.

“Just a wolf.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still feel that the characters are somehow wooden, so if anyone has an idea how to improve on them, do share. It would help me learn how to write better. SInce, let´s be honest, this is not good :D.


	7. Chapter Six- Of burning words and known secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow.  
> She will tell him tomorrow.  
> For today she wanted to feel (mostly) safe a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure I should add any new tags, but heed the current ones. This is not a nice story, at least for now.

The old house... was empty.

First time in a century it didn´t have anyone to shelter. Silence settled like dust on its bones. The satchels of herbs hung still, the hearth cold and empty without a flame dancing in its midst. Not a single fly interrupted the frozen space, time seemed to forget it was running late (always late!) and stood above the three bodies, embalming them in eternity, seemingly not knowing what to do with them. Always dead, always rotting, never turning to dust like they should, like they wish. Curse keeping them in agony of half here, half somewhere else.

The old house was angry. It made the time forget.

Wind picked up, rattling the windows. Sudden darkness enveloped the sky. Swallowing sun.

The blackness glued itself to the glass-panes, sticky and viscous like tar, seeping in. Trying to break through. The house was groaning, its walls straining, when the doors gave in with a loud bang! And the windows shattered with a loud crack! Shards raining down like tears. The blackness rushed in, enveloping everything like a wet blanket made of smog. For a moment all went still. The ink-like darkness with its malicious aura gnawed, bubbled, corroded the very foundations of the house reaching for something and then…

It was gone.

Sun peeked through the clouds, glinting off of the splattering of glass-tears. The only sign of something happening, were the ripped open doors and three missing bodies.

 

…

She felt restless. Even more so than in Jackson´s old house. She heaved a sigh, slumping further against the concrete wall outside their room. Jackson was currently sleeping, his body trying to replenish energy the fastest way possible. Val trained her eyes on the faint body of the moon hanging in the darkening sky.

Soon.

The song was already getting stronger. It has been now three days since they landed in the empty parking lot of a little forgotten town. Too long for her taste, but Jackson was still too weak to attempt any kind of spell. Too weak to run. But.

She could.

They wouldn´t chase after him, they don´t have his wire and, in a few days, he should be strong enough to hide himself. He doesn´t have to run with her for the rest of his life, she doesn´t expect him to. This was her future. But she still preferred it over the cage.

She turned her head slightly. Listening to the steady breathing inside. When he woke up that first time, the whole world was trying to cram itself inside her head, making her heart speed up in sudden panic and tears sprout out of her eyes. She thought she had none left. His quiet voice cut through the onslaught, erased the too real nightmare with one short syllable. She dried her cheeks with the back of her hand and clumsily stood. Grabbing a box of juice from the rickety table, she sat on the edge of the bed. Jackson was watching her with tired, but curious eyes.

“We are safe. Do you remember anything from the passing?” He shook his head, gratefully sipping on the juice. Val had to help him, supporting his head. After recounting the past day, Jackson managed to eat some of the food she bought and fell asleep instantly. This continued for the past two days. Jackson waking up, drinking and eating something. She vowed never to speak of the rather awkward and embarrassing visits to the bathroom, for both of their sakes.

Today, he managed to stay awake for most of the afternoon, cracking a few slightly subdued smiles. He was getting better.

Tomorrow.

She will tell him tomorrow.

For today she wanted to feel (mostly) safe a little longer. She returned her gaze to the now dark sky. The moon a mocking presence shining down at her. _Safe? Don´t be ridiculous! You won´t run from me, in the end you will fall under the song like every other of your brothers and sisters and we will dance together through the night. The blood, the hunt thrumming in our veins._ She frowned at the white face gazing at her. Almost hearing its laughter. The wolf in her perked its ears. Sometimes she hated the Night Wanderer. Mostly because she was locked and the song was making her crazy with its siren-like melody.

Now…

She hated it because it would take away the first semblance of a companion she had since… She heaved a sigh, giving the white ball of rock a pointy glare. Another reason was she knew she was dangerous. More than ever. More than when she was at the peak of her game in the Pit. She was free. So was the Wolf.

“Val?” She startled, torn from her dark thoughts. After opening the door, she spotted a frantic Jackson half out of the bed. One foot on the dirty carpet, shaking hands fisting the sheets. He heaved a relieved sigh after seeing her figure backlit by the glowing moon.

“Well, it´s good you didn´t runaway on me yet.” Guilt prickled her skin.

“Not yet.” She smiled despite herself.

Not yet.

 

…

 

Jackson wasn´t in a good mood. As if sensing her nervousness. He kept complaining. About the room being too small, the sheets being scratchy, the bed smelling funny (and boy was he lucky not to have a werewolf nose). This continued until the early afternoon when his comment about the soup being bland finally snapped Val´s already thin patience.

“If you don´t like it, make it yourself!” She growled, eyes glinting with something wild and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her and resolved to wear a new path in the yellow grass covering the strip of land between the motel and the road to let off steam.

It was fifteen minutes later when the sound of opening door made her pause in her step before continuing once again, after she recognized the culprit. Jackson wore a pitiful expression, all guilt and hurt, sorrow marring his pretty features. He made a few shaky steps, feet landing on the dry grass. He hissed against the uncomfortable prickly sensation.

“Val?” She kept walking, arms resolutely by her side, fists loose, but just barely. Gaze set straight ahead.

“I didn´t mean to make you angry, or hurt you. Val?” He stepped into her path, grabbing her shoulders.

“I´m leaving.”

“This again? You can´t say this every time we argue! It´s not the way arguments work.” He shook her a little, fingers digging into her bony shoulders. She seemed so fragile under his touch.

“No, Jackson, they don´t.” A sad smile crossed her features.

“This time I really am leaving. They will find me and you are in no shape to fight.” He shook his head during her speech.

“So, what!? I can´t kick ass, so you are leaving me behind?” She snorted, one indignant eyebrow rose on her pale forehead and anger crept into his eyes.

“Your hurt pride is of no interest to me. I am leaving so no one would get hurt. Not again.” The strength gradually leaked from her words, the last two but a whisper, swiftly carried away by the breeze. But they were enough to soften Jackson´s gaze.

The atmosphere too tense, too fragile to be tempered with. She smiled gently at him.

“I need to go. The moon is getting stronger.” Realization dawned on Jackson´s face. The full moon was upon them in only two short days.

“We could, we could go somewhere far away, deep in the forests without people. I can get us there...”

“No, you can´t!” She was growing impatient. In a blink of an eye the person before her was someone else. Steel replaced the cheerfulness and she was reminded of the last opponent she faced in the arena.

“I´m not just going to let you go alone. You need help!”

“I don´t need you!” She snapped, surprising him.

“I don´t need your pity and I refuse to be the tool for your revenge against the Principal!” She growled, making the shell-shocked Jackson take a step back. She bared her teeth in grimace, head hung low, regretting what was going to be said even if it was necessary.

“Do you know how you punish a werewolf?” She said in a raspy voice, memories grating, tearing her throat, refusing to be voiced. Jackson stood, nailed to the spot, barely breathing.

“My first… I think it was only a month since I was in the circus, it´s…hard to say. I was to be let free on the full moon.” She stared with wild eyes full of terror at a spot on the ground, trembling, tears clinging to her lashes. And he was trembling with her. For with each new word she painted a scene more terrible than any movie or book could describe.

“Do you know how much damage a werewolf can do to a person? A village?” Jackson took in a sharp breath, his head shaking subtly, refusing her memory. He didn´t want it!

“I…tore them apart. The old. The young. Man, woman, …children. Even the animals.” She whispered. The sun was shining brilliantly at both of them, creating halos above their heads, turning their tears into diamonds. The world around them a glorious sight of gold and inside their minds, a nightmare was spreading its hands waiting to embrace them.

“By morning, there wasn´t a soul left. I did that. And that was only after a month. What do you think will happen when the moon rises above this town, Jackson?”  She heaved in great lungfuls, panting, gritting, gnashing her teeth to get herself under control, not to snarl at the bewildered witch.

“I! HAVE! TO! LEAVE!” She growled each word.

“There is no other way. Not right now.”  The last sentence left her deflated, the fight gone like air from a balloon.

“I realized early that was your reason for springing me out of that hell. Just to spite him, get in one last jab under the bastard´s skin. But I´m not a dog to sick on someone. So, find someone else.” She turned on her heel and this time…

… he didn´t stop her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here I am. Not dead. Yet. The real life has been kicking my ass the past year or so, but these three months were just... cursed by the fates style bad. So, I apologize to whoever reads this for the long wait.
> 
> On the happier note, I got some new inspiration for this fic, so Ima looking forward to writing more and creating a bigger, wider world that I can screw with :D.  
> Peace and good thoughts to you.  
> Akki out.

**Author's Note:**

> I am utterly terrified about posting this. THis story means a whole deal lot to me. Writing it got me through some rough times this past year. Writing as it is brings me joy, so I only hope reading this brings joy to other people.  
> Peace. Akki out. (｡･･｡)


End file.
